


The Secret Spell

by Singing_Violin



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singing_Violin/pseuds/Singing_Violin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill-in-the-blanks explaining some mysteries surrounding Buffy's death and resurrection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weeping Willow

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Buffyverse and characters therein are not mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened when Willow came to tell Angel of Buffy's death?

"It's Buffy," he utters softly.

The sadness in the redhead's face is unmistakable; her presence can have no other motive.

Intellectually, he knows, yet his still heart does not grasp the concept; he hopes the news is not what his brain has instantly concluded.

He swoops towards the young witch and ushers her into a private room, leaving his companions behind without another word of explanation. She wilts only slightly; she has had time to process the news, especially as she witnessed the event itself. He bids her sit, though he remains standing before her.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice thick with trepidation.

She shakes her head. "We couldn't protect Dawn. Glory took her. The portal was already open. Buffy jumped to close it. She...she sacrificed herself, Angel. To save us all. But it's our fault. We could have protected Dawn better. I was too occupied with Tara. Glory got to her, and I saved her, but I lost Buffy. It's my fault. I'm so sorry."

As she speaks, his heart begins to feel the weight of grief, lying heavy in his chest. He collapses into the seat beside her, hanging his head in his hands. "There's enough blame to go around," he mutters. "After Joyce passed, I came to see if she was okay. She asked me if I could stay forever. Then she said it was a bad idea, told me to go home, that I couldn't help. Maybe if I'd argued...if I'd been there, maybe..."

Finally, it begins to hit him, and he covers his face with his hands to hide the tears that are collecting behind his lids. What he hasn't admitted is the utter frustration of his own sacrifice, more than a year ago; he could have been happy with her, alive; he was, for a whole day, but he gave up his life because alive he couldn't protect her, and he feared she'd perish: he was certain that, if he continued as a soldier and away from her, that at least she would live. Apparently his sacrifice was for naught; he finds himself wishing he'd chosen happiness with her, even if it were only for a short while before they were both killed in battle.

Willow can't bear to see her friend like this, and she reaches out to hug him.

As one of his tears falls onto her shoulder, she mutters a prayer...

_Let his pain be mine._

There is a flash of light, but neither notices.

The only thing the redhead feels for a moment is a heaviness, an overwhelming urge to cry, or to hit something. She realizes belatedly that these are the vampire's burdens she is now carrying, and she wonders whether she is strong enough to weather them.

A sob escapes her lips, unbidden but unavoidable, and he holds her tighter. "It's going to be okay," he tells her solidly. Of course, it is a line he has rehearsed many times, and told many people, whether or not he believed it to be true at the time.

This time, he finds, surprisingly, that he does believe it. It is as if a burden has been lifted from him, and he finds comfort in comforting the one in his arms. He knows, somehow, that he will be okay.

Still, he wonders how he could possibly be dealing with this so well. After all, he gave up the one thing he wanted most: to live, in order that she could, and it didn't keep her alive. Yet he finds himself virtually unaffected; he still has his mission, and he feels strong and capable.

Finally, Willow pulls away. "I should go," she utters. "Things to do."

Already, her mind is at work scheming, because it doesn't seem fair that Buffy should be gone when they have all fought so hard to protect her even as she was protecting the world. Willow herself knew, the moment Buffy died, that she would be struggling to keep up, but now that she has Angel's pain as well, it is unbearable. She must do something. She is a powerful witch. Maybe there is something she can do...for Angel, and for all of them.

But in the meantime, she needs time: to prepare, to think.

Angel needs time too. "Me too," he replies, contemplatively. "But I think I need to go away for a while, work through this."

She nods. "I think that would be a good idea," she agrees.

Within the hour, both of them are gone: Willow, back to Sunnydale, and Angel off on a mission to discover meaning in his unlife now that Buffy is gone forever.


	2. Tara's Trepidation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning what Willow has done to Angel, Tara worries about the consequences.

"You did _what_?" she asks, unbelieving. She wants to offer comfort to her beloved, but now she is too angry, too afraid of the unintended consequences of her girlfriend's meddling.

Willow is silent, having no more to say, no more to admit. She could say she's sorry, but she's not. She believed what she was doing was the right thing at the time, and she still does. Angel needs to do his work; he needs not to be burdened by grief. Buffy would want it this way. Wouldn't she?

"Besides violating his privacy, since you didn't ask permission first, doesn't this increase the risk that he will experience that 'perfect moment of happiness' again?" Tara asks pointedly. "You took away his pain; now he can lose his soul as well. Again."

Willow shakes her head. "I don't think so. I was careful. Besides, lack of pain doesn't mean happiness."

"But it _could_ ," Tara argues. "All he needs is to find someone else to love. And maybe he already has. What about that girl he works with, the one who was mean to you in high school?"

Despite herself, the redhead snorts with laughter. "Angel and Cordelia? Please. Back in high school, she had a huge crush on him, and he barely gave her the time of day. Eyes only for Buffy."

"But now they work together, and Buffy's gone," Tara pointed out.

Suddenly Willow feels her girlfriend's fear. "I see your point. So what should I do?"

Tara shakes her head. "I don't know. I guess if you re-ensouled him once, you can do it again. But let's hope it doesn't come down to that."

"Yeah," Willow replies, sitting and putting her head in her hands. Then, she looks up. "How angry are you?"

It is Tara's turn to shake her head. "I'm more worried than angry," she says. "Worried about you, about the magic, about the consequences. I understand why you did it, but I really hope...I hope you'll be more careful, going forward. Maybe I can help. But right now I think I need to leave you alone for a bit, so I don't end up saying something I'll regret."

"Thanks," says the redhead glumly as her girlfriend turns and exits the room.


	3. Intense Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What might have happened when newly-resurrected Buffy met Angel in between Sunnydale and LA.

He stares at her, unbelieving. He still can't quite grasp the fact that she is back, after six months of being dead. He shouldn't be surprised. After all, Wolfram and Hart brought Darla back from oblivion. But they are an evil law firm powered by unknown demons and demigods, most of whom don't even reside in the same dimension as he does. Buffy was resurrected by a mousy redhead from Sunnydale, an ordinary human being. _Or not so ordinary...she apparently is an extremely powerful witch_.

He wonders, for a moment, whether that witch had anything to do with the fact that he was okay after Buffy's death. Not just dealing, but really _okay_. The love of his life, gone forever, after all he'd sacrificed so that she could live, and he was barely phased by the grief. He'd spent three months trying to figure out why he was okay, and ended up battling demons and coming home without an answer. _Willow wouldn't put the whammy on me...would she?_

He shakes his reverie aside when he notices that the small blonde is moving towards him, slowly, and speaking his name. He rushes towards her, envelops her in his arms.

She stiffens. "You're so cold."

He pulls away slightly, keeping his arms on her shoulders. "I'm a vampire," he reminds her. "It never bothered you before."

She steps out of his touch, turns away, crosses her arms as if to hug herself. "I was so warm," she admits. "I just want to be warm again."

"What?" he asks, genuinely confused, then thinks of something. "Here, have my jacket." He takes it off and drapes it over her shoulders.

She touches it contemplatively. "It's cold, like you," she points out.

"You'll warm it up," he says hopefully. "You have body heat."

"Yeah," she agrees noncommittally, though she doesn't take it off. Instead, she pulls it around her shoulders, and he takes this as a positive sign.

"How are you?" he asks awkwardly, and she turns around again, startled, as if she's forgotten he's there. "I mean, other than being cold."

She smiles slightly, enigmatically. "Trying to be okay, I guess."

He nods and frowns, even more worried than before. "How can I help?"

For a moment, she looks longingly at him—hungrily, really, the way she used to. Then she looks down at the floor, still clinging to the sides of his jacket. "You can't. Not without...you can't."

And for a moment, now, he is angry. Angry that they've both come all this way, and she's shutting him out. "No, Buffy," he insists. "You pushed me away before, and you got killed. I won't let you do that again. I don't..." His voice cracks slightly. "I don't want to lose you again. I can't."

He hopes she'll return his anger, his fire, his passion. He longs to press his lips to hers. But she is deader than he is, inside. She merely looks into his eyes and says, "I'm sorry."

He sighs. "You have nothing to apologize for. I just...tell me what it was like, where you were. If anyone can understand, it's me."

He lets the memory of his own time in hell—sent by the girl in front of him, via a sword through his heart—and his unexpected return, lost and wild, centuries of torture behind him while she'd lived but a few months without—hang heavy in the air as he waits for her reply, and when it finally comes, it stuns him.

"No, you can't," she retorts. "Everyone thinks I was in some sort of hell dimension, like you, but I wasn't. I was happy. Warm and happy. Peaceful. This..." she gestures with her hands, "this is hell, being back on Earth, having to fight every day. Responsibilities, demons to fight... a sister to take care of. I'm in hell now, Angel, and nobody can get me out of it. I can only hope that someday I'll get to go back."

He freezes, then clasps her shoulders once more, trying to comprehend what she's just said. "Are you saying you want to die again?"

She looks up at him: trusting, vulnerable. "No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know. All I know is that I was happy, and now I'm not. But," she interrupts as he's about to speak, reading the panic on his face, "don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself, because that's probably a sure way of damning myself to eternal hell. Or so I've heard. Plus, responsibilities. Dawn."

"I can't imagine what you've been through, then," he admits, and he's hoping she'll be smug, just to experience some emotion at all, but if she is, she's not showing it. "I still want to help. Name it, Buffy. Anything..."

"Except the one thing I want from you, the one thing that might make it all okay, if only for a moment," she pours out. "Because that would be the last moment things would be okay. Just like last time. Angel, I haven't even cried," she admits.

His eyes grow wide, then he pulls her towards him again. "I'm here now. Cry if you want."

She pushes him away, gently. "I can't. If I could, I would have. Anyway, it wouldn't help."

He sighs, or rather imitates a sigh, because he has no breath. "If there's nothing I can do, then...maybe someone else can," he admits. "I'm so sorry about what happened with Riley." Her cheeks redden slightly, remembering that embarrassment and heartbreak, and how Angel had asserted to her, no holds barred, that he did not like her new beau. "I promise I won't object again. Unless...he's evil and wants to hurt you."

"Like you were and did?" she deadpans.

He meets her eyes, unflinching, unhesitating, "Yeah, like me," and his voice is tinged with deep sadness.

"I'll keep it in mind," she says. "No evil boyfriends...again." But somehow, she knows she will break this promise, and soon. She shakes the feeling, then takes off his coat and hands it back to him. "I should probably go."

He nods. "Yeah."

She turns to leave. "Buffy," he calls after her. She turns around. "If...when there's something I can do, to help, I want to."

"I know," she says, and then she is gone.


End file.
